Absurdities

I once drove in a hearse to the local cemetery with the funeral director at the wheel and Mr. G. dead in the casket while Aretha Franklin sang "Respect" full blast on the radio. It was especially notable because Mr. G. had not gotten much respect in his life as far as I could tell.

I know a church that installed a new roof only to have a huge oak topple over on it the next day and destroy the entire church building.

I know a woman who requested a certain hymn about peace to be played at her funeral when - unbeknownst to her - the hymn was written by the grandfather of her worst enemy.

Peace.

Life is absurd and I'm convinced that church life is more absurd. Or at least we notice the absurdities more clearly in the throes of theological reflection.

The latest absurdities of the month:

- someone steals items out of the church building that were going to be thrown away,

- a "Christian ventriloquist" offered to perform for our congregation "for a good price" in April,

and there are several I can't write about here since this isn't an anonymous blog. But all these things prove to me that it's God who makes life interesting.

Any absurdities in your town?

Painting is Dada Siegt (Dada Victorious) by Raoul Hausman, 1920

Good Teachers

Since firing bad teachers seems to be in the news, I asked TBC if she could name 3 teachers in her high school she would fire if she could. And she could barely think of one. We are very fortunate.

In tribute to good teachers everywhere, think about the best you've had and let people know. Or better - let them know.

Marion Hicks taught me about outer space and cloud formations and where people used to wear wooden shoes.

Elizabeth Seawell taught me everything about prepositional phrases and grammar.

June Basile taught me Spanish and showed us her shrunken head from Peru at the annual class party.

How about you? Who were your best school teachers? They deserve to be named.

Image is Portrait of Teacher by Amedeo Modigliani.

When I Say "No One Cares"

It occurs to me - in the process of deconstructing the church so that we might discern what the church is supposed to be from what the church has become - it probably sounds like I don't love the church sometimes. But the truth is that - because I love the church - I want the church to be what God wants it to be. Not what makes us comfortable.

It's not about us and being comfortable.

There are too many people who long for meaning, hope for a new way of life, pray for help. We cannot afford to spend our time griping about who gets to use the church parlor next Thursday afternoon.

There was a time when a community cared when the local church got A New Pastor. There was a time when the nation cared what happened at national denominational meetings. There was a time when people cared when churches made Big Decisions like whether or not to ordain women. Or GLBT brothers and sisters.

Beyond the church no one cares. Really. They don't care.

We care a great deal, of course. But we need to focus first and foremost on what God wants the church to be and do. This is all that really matters. This is why we do what we do.

Painting is Deconstruction/Reconstruction: Afghanistan III by Temme Barkin-Leeds (2009)

Would You Give Up Preaching for the Gospel?

Several friends and colleagues through the years have told me that they would give up professional parish ministry except that they would miss the preaching. As a group, we don't love meetings or strategic sessions. We could live without petty arguments and church gossip. Decisions on boilers and copiers are not our favorite. But . . . oh . . . the preaching.

I love preaching and was pondering exactly what it is I love about it.

• Is it about standing up in front of people? Not really. Until fairly recently, I still got a queasy stomach before standing in a pulpit.


• Is it about being the center of attention? Maybe somewhere deep inside. But I was one of those brides who was mortified at the thought of people staring at me while I walked down the aisle.


• Is it about the cool uniform? Mixed feelings. I like being able to where whatever under a robe. But I don't like sartorially separating myself from people until I remember that some people like the symbolism a robe infers - that I've been to seminary and know what I'm talking about. (More about this below.) Yes, there is the symbolism of yokes and slaves to Christ in our collars and stoles but the average person on the street doesn't know that symbolism and doesn't care.


• Is it about the Bible exegesis and word studies and the sitting and pondering how this matters to the average person out there? Yes.


• Is it about "Aha" moments? Big yes.


• Is it about the joy of others sharing what they discerned (maybe months later) from something that came out of my mouth. Love it.


• Is it the weekly reminder that God is actively working. Huge.

But here's the thing: while the fact that a random sample of people all coming from different spiritual places could each get something out of a sermon is clearly an act of the Spirit, it is a bit audacious on my part that the scripture I choose and the words I speak might indeed speak to someone other than myself.

When someone says, "I needed to hear that today," I want to say, "Actually I was preaching to myself. I'm the one who needed to hear it." Preaching feels like a selfish venture.

I am not the only one with something to say.

I am not the only one who can exegete Hebrew. (I can show you how to do it online.)

I am not the only one who has spiritual connections with God.

I am not the only one who had a God moment this week or the only one who noticed that God is working in Haiti or the only one who noticed that God's laws are being trashed by the likes of both friends and foes.

What I like more than preaching (and I like preaching a lot): When people grapple with a chunk of scripture in light of what's going on in the world, perhaps being led by someone who has taken the time and effort to study deeply/seriously/intelligently/faithfully - unafraid to ask questions, allowing others to participate in that adventure together. Instead of being talked to, being talked with. A conversation that's not about displaying our smarts or our piety but displaying our submission to a message greater than the world's message (e.g. your value is determined by how many degrees you have or what kind of house you live in).

So, this is not a new idea, of course. But we have the idea that hearing the Word of God has always involved a pulpit and a seminary trained preacher. Not the case.

Seminary graduates: think about the comments we got in preaching class. "That held together well." "I like the poem you added at the end." "Your posture was not straight enough." "Your hair was a distraction." "That was a well-crafted piece of work."

What if it was only about: How did this push your understanding of how God wants us to live our lives? How did this jolt you into changing something so that you can more closely follow Jesus? What did this sermon teach you about discipleship and how will you respond?

Would we give up something we love for the gospel? Even preaching? Or would we change the way we preach - or the way we ask our professional pastors to preach - for the sake of growing spiritually?

Image is The Sermon of St. John the Baptist by Pieter the Elder Bruegel (1566).

3 Views of Church; 2 Are Deadly

I was invited today to be part of a conversation about our denomination - an institution into which I was born and raised, baptized and confirmed, ordained and installed. People like me (who grew up in some version of the institutional church and continue to give institutional church a try) know that the Constantinian Church is dead. Okay, maybe not everybody knows it.

Although I've posted on this before, I'll repeat myself: This is a really helpful book . Reggie McNeal captures what I've been trying to share with strangers and friends for a while now. I'm not giving up on what the church could be.

A couple of things I've painfully realized, though:

1. I was taught to revere the Reformation. There are numerous problems with this including the fact that our Reformed heritage taught us that church is a place "where certain things happen." (McNeal) If the culture is totally Christian - which we assume in a Constantinian world - then we "go to church" for particularly holy things, unchallenged in our daily lives because - after all - the whole culture is ostensibly Christian.


2. I was taught that a successful church is a successful vendor offering impressive "religious goods and services." (Again, McNeal.) If our Christian Education programs are awesome, if our music is top notch, if we offer lovely settings for weddings and funerals, then we think we're doing our job. There is nothing wrong with an awesome choir or cool mission trips. But it's not about the choir or the mission tours.

According to scripture the church is a community of people sent out to make disciples and offer glimpses of God's kingdom. But this reality withers when people view the church as a place or a vendor of religious activities. My own spiritual practices involve trying to have conversations about this shift over and over again without losing my patience.

I love what the church could be/is supposed to be. I even love some of the things we are that we are not supposed to be. (Mom made my clergy tartan stole. I totally adore that thing.) What I don't love is when we toss all affection for each other out the window in our bitter efforts to cling to what we love more than God.

Things can be different. A renaissance is possible.

Interfaith Couples

Most of us have interfaith couples in our congregations, even if the "interfaith" part generally involves one who is simply a believer and one who is simply not.

An interfaith union has its issues, but none is as fraught with tension as the ones that arise when the couple has children. The usual drill goes like this:

• Couple weds involving some negotiation on how God will play a part in the ceremony


• Couple either worships individually (one goes one way; one goes another on their version of the Sabbath) OR


• Couple worships together in both traditions. Maybe one week, they worship at X and the next week they worship at Y


• Children enter the picture and there are Difficult Conversations. Maybe a pre-marital decision was made regarding What To Do With The Children. Or maybe the couple saved that conversation for when/if children were born. Or maybe a decision was made ("No problem, let's raise them in your faith") but once the child comes, the acquiescent parent is having second thoughts ("Actually, I always dreamed about the day my daughter would celebrate her First Communion in a white dress.")

Our faith memories and traditions pack a wallop emotionally in terms of everything from family rituals to eternal life. As a follower of Jesus, I wonder what the future holds for our faith as our culture becomes more diverse. My own inclination is to embrace interfaith relationships and to encourage our children to have friends of every faith tradition. But what if FBC marries a Muslim woman or SBC marries a Jewish woman or TBC marries a Sikh? It could happen.

I wonder what difference it makes if our children have grown up to be merely cultural believers.

For example, if we are cultural Christians, we might teach our children that being Christian involves celebrating Christmas and Easter but focussing more on stockings filled with candy canes and baskets full of Peeps, rather than Candlelight Communion and sunrise vigils and anything to do with the real Jesus. There might even be baptism and confirmation for the sake of checking a couple of institutional/social matters off a list, but even those sacred rites of the church seem less important in some Christian households.

If we who are Christian have raised cultural believers instead of disciples of Jesus, then our children's rituals of faith will be flat and, again, more about stockings and egg hunts - which can involve wonderful memories, but fall short in terms of an enduring way of life.

Generations Y and Z have the reputation of being givers. They volunteer their time generously and want to make a difference in the world. This is the basic premise of several of the Great Religions, but there are loose theologies like In Good We Trust which have become the unofficial faith community of many.

Again, I'm curious about what the future holds and how this impacts our own congregation's Christian Education. I want couples to care deeply about their children's spiritual upbringing in a way that is more than indoctrination or teaching cultural norms. I want our church to train disciples who are equipped to follow Jesus because that is the best way to live.

For me it's not about ensuring that our children go to heaven, although there are many who fiercely believe that "there is only one way to heaven and it's mine." I trust that God will work that out and I increasingly believe we might be flabbergasted over who indeed makes it to heaven. I pray for mercy for myself and others.

But what are your congregations doing to create young disciples who will devote their lives to something bigger than themselves in the name of Christ? Are you watching some families go through the motions? How are your interfaith couples raising their kids?

Getting to "I Am A Good Woman"

In hopes of both defending and explaining herself, Hwang Myung-eun - South Korean mom and advertising CFO - anonymously put out an ad in a local free paper with the headline:

'I AM A BAD WOMAN.' (This is not the same as what Sally Quinn did last month here.)

Hwang Myung-eun paid for her full page ad and eventually outed herself as the author.

She hails from a culture with high expectations for daughters, daughters-in-law, wives, and mothers while also trying to juggle a career because 1) she likes her career and 2) her income allows them to live prosperously. The article doesn't define what prosperity looks like. It could mean a mansion with Olympic sized pool, or it could be small comfortable home close to her office and extended family. We are told that she is able to earn more than her husband, which is rare in much of the world, and most especially in South Korea.

The ad says: "I may be a good employeee, but to my family I am a failure. In their eyes, I am a bad daughter-in-law, a bad parent, a bad wife, and a bad mother. Do the benefits of working rationalize carrying all these labels?"

Ouch. Maybe this woman has cranky in-laws with too little to do, or maybe her six year old didn't get into the right school, or maybe she just had a bad day.

Many of us have been there. There is always something more we could be doing at home (take on the dust bunnies) or at work (get started on that sermon/class/bulletin/meeting prep) or in our children's lives (take them to the zoo.) There is always more, but here are my simplistic tips for wranging life's competing responsibilities:

Step One: Remember we can't do everything.

Step Two: Remember that Sabbath is the law. (Note to self.)

Step Three: Give each other a break in the gossip department.

Step Four: Live in community better. Help each other out. Be good neighbors.

Step Five: Aim for some balance.

Sometimes we can spend more time with outside-the-home work and sometimes our own kitchens get more attention. Sometimes we can spend a whole day helping with science projects and PTA Teacher Appreciation events. And sometimes we can drive over to visit the in-laws. The crazy-making days occur occasionally, for sure, when every person in our lives wants us to the point of making us feel pecked to death.

But it's all going to be okay. It's really about love, really: loving our extended families, our children, the people who help us parent them and teach them, ourselves, and our work. We are exceptionally fortunate if we can love in all those categories.

Raising little children - and big children for that matter - is so hard. Real love helps though. We need to love each other into becoming Good Women and Good Men.

Image from JoongAn Daily. The ad on the left says, 'The Mom Who Leaves in the morning' and the ad on the right says, 'I Am a Bad Woman.'